Golden Girl
by Convenient Alias
Summary: <html><head></head>"Sif wasn't in love with Thor, but she knew she could be. She could see the appeal in a clean ending. Why was Loki the one who was giving her doubts?" Or, why did Loki steal Sif's hair anyways? Containing ThorSif and LokiSif.</html>


Sif's hair was bright blonde, like gold or flax or wheat or any of those other clichés people used to describe a princess's appearance. That was how her mother wanted her to look, like a princess. And as a side note on the same vein, it just so happened to be the same hair color as the crown prince, Thor.

Sif didn't want to marry Thor, actually.

There were a lot of people who thought she should.

They had noticed how he stood up for her. Few people stood up for the brash, discourteous girl who wanted to be a warrior and refused to wear skirts. It looked like folly to them. That Thor should see it as anything else seemed to be a great deal of generosity on his part. Perhaps a bit too much generosity to be entirely unselfish.

Besides, it pleased them to have a clean ending. The golden prince would marry a golden warrior woman exactly like himself. They would reign over a golden era and have beautiful golden babies. The end.

That was the story so many people wanted to be real. Sif had repeated in her mind a hundred times: sometimes with disgust, sometimes with indifference and resignation (people would think what they wanted to think), sometimes with fear (when Thor looked at her with something strange in his eyes, something apart from the camaraderie they shared) and sometimes even with desire. Thor was not so terrible. Sif knew several friends who had married worse men by far. And perhaps she wasn't head over heels for him but it would be an end to other, ruder men's advances if the prince decided to court her. And what more could she ask for than to marry her best friend?

Loki spoke of it occasionally too. When no one else was around.

The first time it surprised her. He surprised her, with his presence alone. She had thought she was alone in her room that night and he came sauntering out from behind her curtains.

"What are you doing in my room, Loki?" she asked him. She backed away from her closet (she had been about to get undressed, which made her all sorts of nervous) and closer to the door. She didn't like to think of Loki as a threat, and she didn't like to run, but if she had to she would.

"Just thought I'd drop by," Loki said. "Compliment you on your performance this evening."

He was wearing black robes, not his usual green and gold finery. All the better to hide, most likely. And his face was tight.

"I have a knife," Sif warned him. Which she did. It was hidden in her bodice because she had been forced (by her mother) to wear a dress that evening for a banquet and dance, and apparently it was unseemly to wear a scabbard, even the thinnest one, with a dress. "And what performance?"

"Oh? You don't know?" Loki asked. He raised an eyebrow. "But everyone so enjoyed it. It was all the talk at the banquet. Probably will continue to be the talk for days."

"Explain yourself, Loki," Sif said. She glared at him.

Loki didn't look intimidated. That probably came of having known her since they were both only to Odin's waist, when she was just a tomboy who dreamed big and he was a bookish prince who could never beat anyone in battle training. They had been outcasts together, back then, before Sif had gained Thor's support and Loki had started keeping secrets.

He responded, "Not a performance then? Oh, I see, it's actually true love. Tell me, how long before you and Thor make it official, what you two are? How long before he acknowledges you as his betrothed?"

"What?"

"You were all over each other. Everyone noticed," Loki said. "Five dances in a single night, sitting near each other at dinner, and of course staying by his side when he was talking to those dignitaries."

"So did Hogun! Besides, I don't like dancing with just anyone. Men are pigs."

"Hogun isn't a woman. Hogun doesn't create implications wherever he goes," Loki said. "And Hogun doesn't smile so fondly whenever Thor speaks."

"I do not smile fondly," Sif said. She had heard enough rumors from everyone else in the court without Loki scolding her. It wasn't like Loki didn't create rumors. And the ones about him weren't half as pleasant.

"Five dances, Sif," Loki said. "You danced with no one else. Not even Fandral."

"Please," Sif scoffed. "They were all stupid men. They don't see anything but a pretty girl when they look at me. Not even Fandral, when he's had a bit to drink." She sighed.

Loki was looking at her in displeasure still. Why did he care so much what the court said about her anyways? They hadn't been true friends in years, ever since Sif took up with Thor. It seemed one could not be friends with both the princes at once.

"If you ask me next dance, I'll dance with you," she said.

"Oh, and I'm not just a stupid man?" Loki asked. His eyebrows were thoroughly raised again. Something about his expression was wrong, though. It was in character for him to react so, but still. Something was off.

Sif laughed, and knew that she sounded off too. "Honestly Loki, when you look at me I doubt you see a woman at all."

/…/…/

Sif's mother liked to braid her hair. Sif didn't usually mind, since it kept the hair out of the way, an essential for a warrior. Even Thor tied his hair back once in a great while, when he allowed his pride in what was close to a lion's mane to bow to practicality. The annoying thing was that whenever Sif's mother braided her hair, she would call it things like "golden locks" and become all starry eyed and wistful and mention how if Sif didn't marry well (and Sif knew well meant Thor) all those good looks would be going to waste.

All in all, having her hair braided left Sif with a scowl on her face that could last for hours.

But people did appreciate the way it looked, especially when her mother used a fancy hairdo or wove in ribbons. "Brilliant," they would say. Sif had a feeling that her vague resemblance to Thor and the fact that she maintained some femininity were the only reasons they ever accepted her as a warrior.

Thor certainly liked her hair, and he was not ashamed to admit it.

"Sif," he boomed one morning in the training yard. "You look like the sun itself this morning, if the sun's rays chose to weave themselves into braids!"

"Well, Thor, it sounds like you're learning the fine art of flattery," Loki said. It was the time of day that Loki, Thor, Sif and the Warriors Three all trained together, though Loki mostly stood off to the side and watched. Even now he leaned idly against a wall. "Though you're far from having a silver tongue, I suppose you make some progress."

Sif frowned. "Don't be rude to Thor. He was being very sweet," she told Loki, hands on her hips.

"Oh?"

"Very."

"I was just saying the truth," Thor said. "I love my Sif's golden hair. I love my golden Sif."

Saying those words, he stepped up behind her. His lips brushed against the back of her head, and he ran one hand along a single curving braid. Then with a laugh he went off to join Hogun at archery practice, for Thor was never much of an archer and he needed all the training he could get.

Fandral and Volstagg looked at Sif with a knowing gleam in their eyes.

"Isn't Thor in a mood?" Volstagg said.

"He's not me," Fandral said. "But perhaps he's learning how to treat a girl."

Sputtering, Sif turned to Loki for aid. But there was no man leaning against the wall. Loki had disappeared.

She found him later that afternoon in the library. As to why she went in there, never mind that.

"Come to disturb me, golden girl?" Loki asked. He didn't even look up from the book he was reading. Probably found the history of Svartalfheim more interesting than anything she could have to say. Well, if she was doomed to bore him, she would do it with no regrets. There was no need to please such a rude man anyways.

"You fled earlier this morning."

"I found the conversation subject dull," Loki said. "Listening to Thor sing the praises of your hair is less than compelling." He turned a page in the book and glared down at it. Not as focused as he seemed, then, unless some ancient Svartalf king had just committed an atrocity.

Sif decided to take offense. Of course when it was Loki insults were never truly personal, especially when they included Thor, but the man could learn some manners. "Well, I'm sorry you find my hair so dull."

She wasn't sure what sort of repartee to expect. Perhaps nothing. Perhaps an acceptance of the apology. Perhaps even an explanation that it was Thor he was taking offense at, not Sif at all. Loki rarely apologized to Sif, but there had been times where he had come close.

"Oh, I don't find your hair dull," Loki said.

Sif blinked.

This was ridiculous. She didn't like people complimenting her hair. Even if she did pay attention to it sometimes, it wasn't a point of pride. And praising it was old. Why, Thor had done it this morning.

But coming from Loki, she felt like it would somehow be different.

She bit her lip. Finally she said, "You don't?"

"Oh,no," Loki said. He finally looked up from his book and his lips stretched into a smile. "I despise it."

Sif blinked again.

Loki put his book down on the chair and rose to his feet. "It's just a yellowed weed growing out of your scalp, after all," he said. One step closer to her. "What's there to like?" One step closer. "Don't tell me you listen to Thor's prattle about sunshine and daffodils. The color yellow is an ugly color." One step closer and he was only inches away from her now, so close she had to tilt her head up to look him in the eyes, and of course she couldn't look away. "The color of betrayal, of cowardice."

He leaned down so that his chin rested on top of her head. "Don't think I'm going to kiss it like my doltish brother. I'd be repulsed." He leaned back and brought a hand up to touch, not her hair, but her cheek.

"Loki," she said. Back away, back away, back away. This was exactly the kind of situation she should have been avoiding from the start. But his green eyes were hypnotizing, the way they focused in on her face, ignoring what he was calling an unattractive frame.

"Now you're a beautiful woman, Sif," Loki murmured. His hand on her cheek was cold. (Thor's hand was always warm, and why did that come to her mind right now?) "And a noble warrior, of course." His eyes were mocking. "It's a pity no one can look at you without thinking 'Thor'."

He seemed to think what he was saying had meaning, but Sif didn't understand. She pushed him away by the shoulders, and he didn't resist. He was content to stand a few feet away from her while she regained her breath.

"You've never had a problem with Thor's hair," she pointed out. She wasn't sure exactly what she was trying to prove, but arguing anything against Loki was better than nothing.

"It's fine," Loki said. "As long as it stays on Thor. The same way his hands and lips ought to." He glared at her. "I notice you didn't push _him_ away."

"He was being friendly," Sif said. "You were being a snake." People said Loki had a silver tongue, but in truth it generally poured out venom.

Loki shrugged. "Well, if you prefer his meat headed approach, I wish you both happiness." His tone had changed from corrosive to neutral, as if he really didn't care one way or the other. He was an incredible hypocrite.

"Why are you so against Thor courting me?"

"I thought he wasn't courting you."

"Yes, but if he were?"

"Not everyone longs to see the perfect couple come together," Loki said. He grimaced at her. He'd backed up almost to his chair again. "Two lovely blond Aesir proceed with a slightly unorthodox but ultimately beautiful courtship, get married, and have beautiful blond children with perfect manners. Disgusting."

With that, he stalked out of the library. He didn't even take his book of Svartalfheim history with him. Sif supposed the conversation must not have been so boring to him after all.

/…/…/

"Your brother is insane."

"I doubt it not," Thor said. The two of them were taking a walk through Asgard's streets. It wasn't a date. They just both liked to take walks, and if it was convenient, why not go together? Even if it was the early evening hours when a beautiful sunset changed piercing sunlight to dim twilight. "You generally take his side though."

Sif kicked a pebble. Didn't she know it. She liked to stick up for the underdog, the outcast, but Loki was making it hard to sympathize with him. "Not this time."

"What has he done, then?" Thor asked.

There were not too many people out on the streets. Those that did gaped at the sight of the golden couple strolling around so casually. More rumors tomorrow, no doubt. Well, fine. Sif didn't care.

"He said he hated my hair. Then he said I was beautiful. Then he said he didn't like you courting me. Then he left."

Thor frowned. He stopped walking under the awning of a fabric shop. Sif stopped beside him. "He does have his moods."

"I wish I knew what goes on in his head."

" I suppose it's good that he thinks you're beautiful," Thor said. "Be complimented. Loki has good taste, even if he wastes it on books. When he drinks wine he can always pick out the superior blends. Even Odin will admit it."

"Great," Sif said. Thor and his tangents. While he was willing to listen to people criticize Loki, it was clear that to him, Loki had no flaws that could overshadow his virtues. (Except when they were on missions. Then he could get a little condescending. The whole older brother thing-Sif could understand it.) "But his taste in wine doesn't change the fact that he is insane."

She didn't tell him about the way he had touched her, his hand on her cheek, cool and calm. Not exactly a firm grip (she had pushed him away so easily), but deliberate. His eyes had been so focused on her, forcing her to focus in return. It had been nothing, a single moment that had now disappeared, an action that might never be repeated. Yet there had been an intimacy in the moment that even now brought a flush to her face.

Thor was oblivious to her embarrassment.

He said, "It is too bad that he disapproves of my courting you, though."

Sif stared at him.

He was wearing an earnest expression. If Loki was a snake, Thor was a sort of a good dog, an attack dog perhaps but still thoroughly loyal and intent. He looked at her now as a dog looked at its master.

"But you aren't actually courting me," Sif said. "So I don't see how it matters."

Thor widened his eyes. "What? Sif, of course I'm courting you. Didn't you know that?"

Sif gaped.

"I'm sorry if I didn't make my intentions clear," Thor said. "I thought it was obvious. I always praise you. I think you're a beautiful woman. I danced five dances with you just the other night, and with no other woman."

Thor had never seemed bothered by the rumors. While Sif had rolled her eyes at them and occasionally muttered a vague complaint, he had only ever smiled at them. And sometimes followed the smile with a pat on the head, on her lovely golden hair.

Thor cleared his throat. "Well. If it was not obvious. Lady Sif, have I your permission to court you?"

The sunset was heartbreakingly skillful in its mixing of gold, purple and scarlet. Sif gazed upon it. She didn't want to look at Thor. She didn't know how to feel. There was a certain satisfaction in her stomach at his intention, pride that such a good man could feel that way towards her. And a certain longing, because she had always loved being with Thor. He made her better, she thought. He made her braver and more willing to plunge ahead in battle, he made her care less what others thought, and he never made her feel less than beautiful.

But there was lead in her stomach too, not just butterflies. And the breeze of the coming evening caressed her cheeks, almost as cool as the hand of a green-eyed prince.

"I need time to think it over."

/…/…/

"Your brother is insane."

Loki shrugged. "Try convincing the court of that. I've been trying for centuries." Sif had found him in his quarters and persuaded him to let her in. "But you usually think otherwise. What's he done now?"

"He's asked for permission to court me."

Loki raised an eyebrow and let out a long whistle. "Isn't it a bit late for that?"

Curse Loki and his nonchalance. He sat as casually at his desk as if Sif weren't even there. Sif said, "I didn't know he was courting me, and he didn't know I didn't know."

"Well, Thor's never been great at communication," Loki muttered. He picked up a quill pen and tapped it against the desk. Not so nonchalant. "What did you tell him?"

"Told him I needed time to decide. What do I do?"

Loki gave her a long look. Sif felt painfully aware of every inch of herself-the black and silver robes and pants that would usually belong to a boy but had been adjusted to fit her, her blond hair bound back in a hundred tiny braids but with strands escaping (Loki wouldn't care, he thought it as all a weed anyways), her boots muddy from her walk on the city streets. Thor thought she was beautiful, even when she looked less composed. Loki, she didn't understand. His eyes measured her, absorbing every detail, in a way that Thor's did not, but they made her uncomfortable. What did he want? What did he expect?

"I don't know why you're coming to me with this."

After the way he touched her yesterday? Perhaps Sif had been imagining things. A caress was just a caress, and playful banter was just playful banter, and the past (when they were young and two shoes made of the same leather) was just the past. She could see now how fragile it all was, as fragile as a flower made of glass or the sheen of Loki's skin. But she wouldn't let it all fade away so easily.

Jutting out her chin, she said, "I thought maybe you might have an opinion on the matter."

Loki turned back to his desk. Tap, tap went the quill pen against the surface. "Reject him. You can do better."

"Better?" Images of a golden couple flashed through Sif's mind. And perhaps the golden girl she imagined didn't feel much like her, but it could be her. It was close now, closer than it had ever been before. "He's the crown prince of Asgard, a hero throughout the city, unquestioningly loyal and willing to view me as my own woman. How could I do better?"

"Maybe you couldn't," Loki said. Tap, tap, tap. Silence, the hand rested on the desk, twirling the pen between its fingers. "But, if you wanted, you could do worse." Even the pen froze. Loki bit his lip. He said no more.

"That's not very concrete," Sif said. She frowned at him.

Sif wasn't in love with Thor, but she knew she could be. She could see the appeal in a clean ending. Why was Loki the one who was giving her doubts?

"Give me one night," Loki said. He stood up. "Will you give me that, Sif?"

Giving anything to Loki was dangerous. And a night…Sif wasn't sure she liked the sound of that.

She nodded.

/…/…/

When she woke up the next morning, everything after that nod was fuzzy. She could remember Loki taking out some books, mixing together some herbs and liquids, giving her something to drink. That was all. Now, she was in her own bed. She felt fine-not tired or sore, refreshed if anything. But she couldn't remember what Loki had done with his night. And that made her nervous.

(She was still wearing the same dress as she had been wearing last night, at least.)

She got up with a mighty stretch. She could always just ask Loki what had happened the night before. Of course he might lie, but she could usually catch him at that. But perhaps she would take her hair down first. Leaving it in the same braids from last night would not be a good idea.

It was looking in the mirror that she first noticed, because she had been too sleepy earlier to notice anything but the face looking at her from the mirror was off. Sure, it had the same brown eyes and dark eyebrows that had never matched her blondness, and the same complexion and the same head shape, and was very similar in many ways. All these things were the same as always.

But the hair, the beautiful golden hair that Thor had kissed-that was gone. Her head was now completely bare down to the pale scalp.

Sif almost shrieked.

She restrained herself.

By the Vanir. What would Thor think? He loved her hair so much. And Loki despised it, which was doubtless why he had gotten rid of it. A typical waste of a night. She should have known.

She washed and dressed herself numbly. It went a lot quicker than normal. No need to wash and brush and put up her hair. That was already taken care of quite efficiently, courtesy of Loki.

Dressed, though, she did not know what to do. Could she show herself before the court like this? Before Thor? No. No. And what of Loki? She would have to tell them what had happened to her hair, and they would learn how she had gone up to his room, submitting herself to what persuasions he might offer. Thor would not want to court her anymore. And maybe she had her doubts about him but to accept or reject his offer was supposed to have been her choice. She didn't want to lose it because some snake had shaved her head.

She sat on her bed and stared at the blankets. Watched her clock tick out the minutes past the time she was supposed to meet the others for training. It was a golden clock. It made her think of her hair. It made her think of Thor (he would be so disappointed in her, quiet, maybe, but disappointed). It made her think of Loki. There had been gold embroidery on his shirt last night, especially on the cuffs of his sleeves. She had noticed because she had been looking at his hands, reliving his touch on her skin and longing for it back.

There was a knock on the door.

"Yes?" She called out. Who could it be? Thor, perhaps, grown impatient of waiting for her, especially since he awaited her answer as well? Loki, come to gloat over a trick well played out on a gullible subject?

"Sif? May I come in, dear?"

Sif didn't talk to Queen Frigga often, but she was around the family often enough to recognize her voice. She clenched the bed sheets in her hands. "Yes." At least another woman would not make a mockery of her.

Frigga came in quietly, shutting the door behind her. She walked over to Sif on the bed and sat down next to her. She didn't seem surprised at Sif's missing hair but she did run a hand over Sif's bald head and let out a sigh. "Oh, Sif. I am so sorry."

"How did you know?" For it was obvious the queen had indeed known about Sif's hair, else she would never have had so little reaction to it being gone.

"Loki told us everything."

"Everything?"

The taking her hair part, that was fine. But everything? Did that include him calling her beautiful and stroking her cheek? Did that include her giving him a night to convince her not to accept Thor's courtship? And if Frigga knew of all this, how could she approve of Sif after the way Sif had acted around both of her sons?

"Yes. He told us how he attacked you and knocked you out with his magic, and how he stole your hair. He boasted about it. Oh, Sif." Frigga stroked Sif's head again. "I am so sorry. I would not have thought any son of mine could be so cruel."

The way he attacked Sif and knocked her out? Sif blinked. Well, the knocking out part was probably accurate considering her last memories were fuzzy ones of drinking a potion, but it had been purely voluntary. Just what was Loki up to? Whatever he was planning, his lies were hurting Frigga. Sif frowned. She wondered if she should deny them or remain silent. But if she told the truth, how would Thor be able to look upon her?

"He won't hurt you again," Frigga said. "He's in a cell in the dungeons until we can figure out how best to punish him. Did he hurt you any more than he said?"

Sif didn't like the doubt in Frigga's voice, the true belief that her son could do monstrous things. She fidgeted away from Frigga's touch. "I am fine. He took my hair, but that is all. A harmless prank." Which was exactly what she had been denying to herself earlier. It wasn't harmless. But Frigga made it sound far too dire.

"Harmless? Not so," Frigga said. She shook her head. (She still had lovely hair herself, though it was tied up and did not whirl at her motions.) "He said he did it because he was jealous of both you and Thor, because he does not like your relationship. He had the strangest look on his face when he said that. I did not recognize my own son in him."

"I see," Sif said. Close enough to the truth, perhaps, though who knew if Loki was honestly jealous of Thor's relationship with Sif? Perhaps he was. Loki had an insecure side, that she knew. She had seen it time and again. But this…she was not at all sure this action could be born of insecurity. The absolutely clean cut of all her hair, leaving not even the roots to be seen, spoke of too much deliberation. And last night, Loki had seemed calm enough.

Frigga had brought Sif some breakfast as well. She showed Sif how to cover her head with a veil so that she would not be ashamed of her baldness. She suggested that Sif see Thor, who was worried about her. Coming from Frigga, that was more than a suggestion.

Thor was distraught. Relieved to see her unharmed, but clearly upset. His hand twitched and she knew he wanted to take off her veil, see the results of Loki's actions himself. She didn't take the veil off. She was not eager to show him.

She persuaded him to let her see Loki. He worried such a meeting would just upset them both, but Sif was stubborn. She convinced him that it was for the best.

"Perhaps we can still make up. Though Loki has something against me, I understand that he did this out of anger. I would still be his friend if it is possible."

She even persuaded him to leave the two of them alone for the conversation. And then there they were, the two of them. A woman with her hair missing, a man with cold eyes locked up in a cell, staring out at her between the bars. No guards. No brothers. Just them and a world of understanding and not understanding between them.

/…/…/

"Tell me why."

Loki grinned at her. Even here, in a cell far below his stately rooms, dressed in the plainest robes she had ever seen him wear, he had the dignity and composure of a prince. "Why what, my dear Sif?"

She touched the head cloth she was wearing. "Why did you do this?"

Loki's grin became a bit less wide, but it was still there. With one hand he stroke the bars between them. "Tell me, Sif, what did you expect me to do with my night?"

"I don't know."

"You came to me asking whether you should marry Thor, did you not? Giving me one final chance if I wanted you. How generous," Loki sneered. "As if it wasn't obvious that I wanted you. There is no man alive and in his full wits who would not."

Loki could say the most flattering things and still ruin them with his tone. It was at times like this that Sif had no idea what attracted her to him. Some found his silver tongue beautiful, but he only ever played with words to bring pain and venom. He never praised to his fullest extent. Sometimes she wondered what it would be like, to be loved by him if he allowed himself to truly love.

"You expected me to try to talk you out of it," Loki said. "What did you expect me to do? With what soft and silvery words could I outshine Thor's golden praise, with what passionate kisses the adoration he holds for you? What could I give of myself that would ever measure up? I am less, Sif. I know I am less. As you said, you could never do better than Thor. I never intended to try."

Sif took off her veil. The chill of the dungeon brushed against the bare skin of her shaven head. "That still doesn't explain this."

"I can't change you," Loki said. "I could never make you want me." He stepped back and let his hand on the bars drop. "The only way you'll ever choose me is by choosing me, Sif. It is up to you. So I took your hair. Your hair is golden, is it not, and flowing and beautiful, fully befitting a maiden of your beauty and grace? Those who look on it see you as a perfect maiden. The perfect maiden would marry Thor, and they expect it."

"So," he continued. "I take from you their expectations, the mold you have to fit. Be what you want, Sif. Take a step back. It isn't a choice between me and Thor. You have a million more options than that. For all you try to act like a rebel, you still have a problem with thinking inside the box."

Sif frowned.

She touched her bare scalp.

Loki was still a puzzle. Perhaps he had some logic behind what he said. But Sif never had anything against playing by the rules. It was he who chose to break them. And yet, there was an odd sort of beauty in the things he did, an elegance in his madness that made her wonder if perhaps the one who was seeing everything topsy turvy was not Loki but her.

"It will grow back," Loki said. "But I do not think you will forget, Sif. Will you?"

/…/…/

She told Thor that she needed time to consider his desire of courting her. Not just a few days. She asked, instead, for three months. He was very understanding.

"You were upset by all this business with Loki," he told her, holding her hands in comfort. "Please, I hope you will not hold it against him. I think he was angrier at me than at you, and he can act with no sense sometimes. You have been his friend for centuries, and you know how brainless he can be. But he has never hated you, and I am sure he will come to regret his actions."

Sif doubted it. But then, Thor didn't know the whole story. Having secrets from him felt odd, made her see him as simultaneously purer than ever (purer than her) and weak because of his oblivious belief in his brother's lies. Was this how Loki saw him? But Loki loved Thor, even when he despised and envied him. He probably loved Thor more than Sif did.

Her hair grew back in time. It even grew back quickly, perhaps because of some spell of Loki's. But it was not the same. The curl had gone out of it, making it straight and functional. More than that, the new hair was no longer golden, but shiny black.

Loki had despised Sif's hair. Perhaps his motivation had always been as simple as that.

Three months later, Sif's hair was down to her ears already, but it had an entirely different nature. Loki had said she would not forget. This practically ensured that.

When she looked in the mirror, the black did not make her think of Loki. He did have the darkest hair in the royal family, and her new hair looked extraordinarily like his, it was true. His mark was there, and Sif would never be rid of it. But the hair did not make her look like Loki's possession.

Instead, she saw in the mirror a battle hardened warrior. Her new hair emphasized the grim lines of her face and body, the tension in her jaw. She saw not Loki, but only herself.

But she could no longer see the golden girl in the mirror. With her crow hair, only inches long, she could no longer look at herself and see a girl who belonged in the tale of a proper lady marrying the golden prince. She wasn't golden anymore, and truthfully she had never been golden in the first place.

Thor wasn't surprised at her rejection. He seemed resigned to it. She didn't match him, not the way he had hoped she would. Nevertheless, he remained friends with her. He would dance with her at the banquets over and over again, praise her prowess in battle side by side with her lithe beauty, and tease her until she blushed. Thank the Vanir. She would have been sorrowed to lose such a dear companion.

And Loki…

Loki did not seem surprised either, when she told him the news. He would still be down in the dungeon for months more, condemned there for a solid year. He did not seem bitter about his imprisonment, though with Loki, none could tell what went on in his head.

He did not ask permission to court her, not then or when he finally did get out of prison. Nor did he ever try to steal a kiss, or acquire the habit of stroking the hair he had enchanted on her head. Still, he would send her sharp glances and insult her with words that were not truly insulting.

His words still echoed in her head. He wanted her, even if it was not nearly as obvious as he believed. And the only way she could get him was by choosing him.

She thought she'd let him wait. After all, the world was wider than Thor and Loki. There was no need to restrict herself to a man. Not yet.

/.../.../

AN:...And so it goes. This was my attempt at retelling that Norse myth where Loki steals Sif's golden hair (because yes, Sif was blonde). Originally it was going to be a bit more fluffy and a bit more Lokisif, but stories go the way they want.

Reviews are always appreciated.


End file.
